July 18, 2016   

 

I had lunch today with Bill Sterling.  It was supposed to include Eppard, but he forgot.

 

That Bill wanted to come to the reunion, but wasn't able to makes more sense now.

 

Bill has been retired 14 years, and wishes he was still working.  His open heart surgery was 21 years ago.  His doctor says, "No more surgery."  He has eight stents.  The doctor says, "No more stents."  His diabetes requires daily medicines, testing, and shots.  He also has a lung doctor and a foot doctor.  Janet doesn't let him drive anymore.

 

 We talked a lot about his Brick Monroe school class mates that included Art, George, Troeglen, and the Pulse sisters.  He mentioned that Thom had told him 23 of our classmates were no longer with us. We spent some time on Art and George.  Talking about deceased classmates, classmates who have lost spouses, and classmates who have lost children, brought home to me the blows that have been struck.  I learned that Bill lost a son to a criminal act while on the job in 1991.  He has another son who lives in Denver, selling medical supplies in a three state area, and another son, age 54, who still lives at home.

 

 He still acts and sounds like the Bill Sterling we knew back when.  A little louder because he is hard of hearing.  A little calmer because he is in his late 70's.

 

 A good time was had by all.  Maybe even Janet.  Who, I learned as we prepared to depart, had been sitting in the car reading a book while we enjoyed our extended lunch.  I went out with him and told her that the guy who didn't show was demanding that we do it again, that it might be awhile, but, next time, I would call the no show to make sure it didn't slip his mind again and, if she would get Bill to gathering, I would get him home.  Home is still in Roosterville.

 

 Thom, you might pass this along to Martha.  It might take the edge off his no show to be Woody one more time.  Interestingly, we ran into Don Smith and Gary Moore at the restaurant.  I introduced Bill, and Don made Bill's day.  He said, "Oh, I remember you.  You sang Tutti Frutti."  Come to think of it, being remembered for a role played sixty years ago ought to make anybody's day.

 

 Mike